


Kiss me and take off your clothes

by steveandbucky



Series: in any version of reality [23]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Attempt at Humor, Awkwardness, Background Relationships, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Blogging, Dick Pics, Embarrassment, Fluff, Gay Bucky Barnes, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-04 01:06:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17888651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steveandbucky/pseuds/steveandbucky
Summary: Steve Rogers is dared to send a dick pic to a blog which critiques dick pics (run by none other than Bucky Barnes). Hilarity ensues.





	Kiss me and take off your clothes

**Author's Note:**

> this was an idea i had with someone on tumblr who told me about critiquemydickpic and then obviously my brain went 'imagine your otp' and honestly it just got out of hand idek please read it and leave me a nice comment so i hate myself a little less for writing this :-)

 

 

“Never have I ever sent an unsolicited dick pic,” Natasha manages to keep a straight face only until all the boys in their company start grumbling about the unfairness of the situation. She’d already played ‘Never have I ever had a boner,’ three rounds ago, meaning everyone except herself and Sharon took a shot.

“You can’t keep doing this, you know,” Scott protests, glaring at her.

Natasha shrugs and says, “Rules are rules!” and giggles drunkenly as they all knock back a shot.

All of them except for one Steve Rogers, who is smiling a little too smugly.

She squints at him. “Are you forgetting you’re meant to take a shot?”

Steve shrugs. “What? I’ve never sent an _unsolicited_ dick pic.”

“Pfft,” Scott smacks him on the shoulder. “Technicalities. Drink up.”

“Nuh-uh. Nat was very specific.”

“So, like…” Clint stares at him, trailing off. He’s way too drunk, and keeps spacing out every now and again. “Like, never? No dick pics.”

“Well, no, not never. But, you know, not unless there was, y’know, build up,” Steve explains. “If me and my partner have been, uhh…”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it, Mr. Saint Rogers.” Nat rolls her eyes. “Who’s surprised, really?”

Scott, who’s now busy building a tower of empty shot glasses by stacking one on top of another, butts in with, “I’m not. Steve would never do that. He’s too Mr Two-Goody-Shoes.”

“You mean Goody-Two-Shoes.” Sharon corrects from when she’s lying on the floor, with her head on Natasha’s lap. She’d given up three rounds ago and is now drifting in and out of sleep, butting in with a witty comment every now and again.

“Am not.” Steve says with indignation, frowning at Scott. "Remember spring break, two years ago? How am I a goody-two-shoes?”

“Prove you’re not. Send a dick pic.” Natasha grins mischievously.

Steve rolls his eyes. “To who, exactly? I’m not going to terrorise some poor girl - _or guy_ \- with the unexpected presence of my dick.”

“Someone off grindr, or something. Isn’t that what you gays do?”

“I’m bisexual.”

“New drinking game, take a shot every time Steve says he’s bisexual,” Sharon says and laughs at her own joke.

Nat pats her head gently. “Go to sleep, honey.”

“Do it,” Clint throws popcorn at him. “Don’t be a coward, Steve, just do it.”

“It’s not - I’m not being a coward, I just think it’s _rude_ , and disrespectful, and my mother raised me right, which is more than I can say for _your_ mother _.”_

“Dude.” Scott looks at him, mildly horrified.

“What?” Steve blinks, confused through the haze of alcohol.

“Orphan, remember.” Clint says and grins when Steve’s face flushes pink and his eyes grow wide in horror.

“Shit. Sorry - that was... I forgot, sorry. Shit.”

“Don’t worry about it. But in return, I think it’s only fair I dare you to send a dick pic to a stranger.”

Steve deflates. “You can’t _dare_ me-”

“He’ll never doooo iiiiit,” Scott says in a sing-a-song voice.

“Oh, come on! You’re just goading me-”

Natasha interrupts him. “Okay, look, you don’t have to send it to a stranger. There’s this blog called _dickpiccritic_. Everyone sends in their dick pics. So go take one and send it to them.”

“You’re kidding,” Steve says incredulously. “That’s not a real thing.”

“It is.” Natasha brings up the website on her phone and shows it to him. “See? There, it’s easy. Now go to the bathroom and take a picture of your penis, Steven!”

Reluctantly, Steve gets up and heads to the bathroom.

Once he’s locked the door, he pulls out his phone and finds the blog on tumblr.com, looking through the first few pages to see what he’s getting himself into. The blog has hundreds of submissions. The pictures are actually aesthetically pleasing - well, at least some of them. After several moments of aimless scrolling, Steve shakes his head and exits the blog. That’s the most dick pics he’s ever looked at in a row. It’s kind of unnerving. All the sizes and shapes and… varieties.

He shakes his head again to stop that train of thoughts, and pulls down his jeans and his underwear, and just looks at himself in the mirror above the sink. He’s ridiculously nervous. It doesn’t even _matter_ because this is a complete stranger and it’s completely anonymous and well, this guy judges dick pics in his free time so he’ll probably appreciate Steve’s submission. Right?

But being nervous means he’s having a hard time, well, _getting hard_.

He closes his eyes and tries to think of things he finds arousing. Normally, he’d think about whoever he’s dating at the time, but sadly he’s been single as a pringle for - wow, for five months now. The last time he got laid was at a New Year’s party, and that was a meaningless drunken hook-up. He opens his eyes moments later and looks down and sighs at the sight of his sad, flaccid dick.

There’s no way he’s sending a dick pic without an erection. That’s just sad.

Okay, time for some visual aids. Steve unlocks his phone and decides to google some steamy pics of his favourite porn stars. What? _Everyone_ has favourite porn stars. Steve’s happen to be pretty boys with long brown hair and bright blue eyes. Instinctively, his hand wraps around his slowly stiffening dick. That’s more like it. While he’s scrolling through the pictures, his brain helpfully makes the association between the half-naked men he’s looking at and that guy from his Sociology class - what was his name? B-something - Bucky. _Bucky Barnes._

Welp, now he’s fully hard.

Steve pushes his jeans a bit further down, opens the camera app and angles his phone so that the picture is from his point of view, straight down his body.

Instantly he regrets it. It’s not a bad picture, but it’s certainly not up to the standards of this dick pic critic guy.

The second attempt is much nicer. He sets his phone on the counter and turns on the timer function, then steps back and waits for the picture to be taken. Except while he’s waiting, his hand sort of, tries to jerk his dick, because he’s hard and drunk and alone in a dimly lit bathroom. He’d turned off the big fluorescent light and instead turned the LED candlelights to create a nicer ambience, because apparently he’s now taking this submission seriously.

Third time’s the charm. Steve wisely resists the urge the touch himself, instead stretches one arm up, resting it on his head, and puts his other hand on his stomach and pushes up his t-shirt to reveal his abs. He kind of feels like a pornographic model, posing like that, but part of him actually enjoys it - maybe a little too much.

Finally satisfied with the quality of his dick pic, Steve crops it so his face isn’t in it, and the focus is really on his dick, with the frame cutting off just below his chest, and only extending until his knees, where his belt and jeans are just barely visible. He attaches the picture to the email, types out ‘ _the best dick pic youve everrr seen’_ and hits send. Smiling to himself for a job well done, Steve pulls his clothes back on and goes to continue the drinking game with his friends.

 

 

* * *

 

 

By the time his Introduction to Philosophy lecture is finished, Bucky is all but asleep. Late-evening lectures are just as bad as early-morning ones, as far as staying awake during the entire 90 minutes goes. As luck would have it, Bucky misses his bus by mere seconds, all because he’d stopped to get a cup of coffee from their on-campus Starbucks. Probably not a good idea to be drinking coffee at nearly 8pm, but he’s exhausted, and needs the sugary-caffeinated goodness, with a healthy dollop of whipped cream on top. Worth every penny.

When he gets home it’s well past nine o’clock, and the last thing Bucky wants to do is continue working on his Sociology paper. It’s due the next day at midday, but if he showers and turns in early, he can wake up early and work on it tomorrow. Sure, he’ll miss his morning lectures, but fuck it, it’s an important paper. It’s a solid plan.

Bucky takes a long shower and eats his roommate’s, Sam’s, leftover chow mein for dinner, then grabs his laptop and flops on the comfy couch. He scrolls through Twitter and Tumblr, then decides to check if there’s any new email submissions for the _dickpiccritic_ blog that he runs. It’s kind of ridiculous, but he’s a little proud of it. Since starting the blog last March, it’s started gaining some popularity, and he gets at least a few emails every day. Some of them are pervs who send him their dick pics and ask Bucky if he wants to suck them off. Bucky deletes those, and any other emails asking if he offers sex work in exchange for a lot of money. Like, a ridiculous amount of money. Every once in a while he’s tempted, because $200 for a blowjob is a fucking good deal. Regardless, he deletes those as well and blocks the senders. His blog is legit. People send him tasteful - well, _mostly_ \- nudes, and he judges them for artistic creativity, originality, and how aesthetically pleasant the picture is overall. He’s had all sorts of submissions, even some from women or non-binary people with their detachable penises. It’s easily his favourite pastime.

Today’s emails include two pervs who get blocked, a few boring pictures with bottom-down point of view, a couple of black and white artistic nudes with less of a focus on the sender’s genitals, and one submission of a huge pink dildo that’s comedic more than anything else.

The submission that piques his interest is from one Cap’n Rogers, with the subject title ‘ _best dick pic youve everrr seen’_. Bucky snorts.

“I highly doubt this is gonna be the best dick pic I’ve ever seen,” Bucky mumbles to himself as he opens the email.

Unfortunately, that’s exactly when Sam enters the living room and stops dead in his tracks. “Are you on that blog again?” he says, putting his hands on his hips for the full effect of scolding him.

“No…” Bucky says in a way that implies he definitely is.

Sam rolls his eyes and flops down on the couch next to him, turning on the TV. “You’re gonna get yourself a crazy stalker fan one of these days.”

“You think so?” Bucky asks, feigning excitement. He giggles at Sam’s unimpressed expression. “I’m being careful. But I can’t just quit!” he juts his chin out. “I have 10,000 followers who are expecting quality content. I can’t disappoint them.”

“Hmm,” Sam hums. “Don’t you have a paper you need to be working on?”

“I’ll do it tomorrow, _Mom.”_

Sam snorts and starts tapping away at his phone, so Bucky gets back to the task at hand. He posts the submission on his blog, along with the commentary. He scrolls through his dashboard for a few more minutes then puts his laptop away and heads to bed, deciding to call it a day.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Steve wakes up with a sore throat and a throbbing headache. The room is too bright and people are being too noisy - the next door neighbours, that is, who have decided to have a loud fight at - _nine in the morning,_ for fuck’s sake.

With a groan, he sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes. He looks around to see Clint has crashed on the other sofa, and Scott is passed out cold on the floor. They got way too fucking drunk. Steve’s just glad he doesn’t have any classes today and he doesn’t have to turn in with a hangover.

Natasha is also still asleep, in her own bedroom on her comfortable mattress, no less, so Steve texts her to let her know he’s going back to his own place. He washes his face and uses some mouthwash to refresh his breath, then heads out. On his way downstairs, Steve pulls out his phone and checks his notifications again. There’s some embarrassing pictures Nat shared in their group chat. At least they’re not on his Facebook.

The curious thing is an email he’s received from _dickpiccritic@gmail.com_ which strangely hasn’t been marked as spam. Even weirder is that it’s a reply to an email that Steve does not remember sending.

He opens the thread and sees the picture attachment and suddenly everything comes flooding back to him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: the best dick pic youve everrr seen
> 
> Dear Cap’n Rogers
> 
> Thank you for submitting to dickpiccritic.  Here’s a link to your submission. 
> 
> Regards
> 
> James

 

 

 

Steve clicks on the link and...yep, that’s definitely a picture of his penis.

On the internet.

For everyone to see.

What’s even worse, underneath the picture is the commentary:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> _I admire your confidence sender, but I wouldn’t say this is the best dick pic I’ve ever seen. It’s a good effort. There’s definitely something sexy about this picture. I like how you’ve posed, and the fact that we can see your t-shirt riding up, but we can also see your jeans around your knees and that doesn’t have the effect you were going for, I think. The lightning could be better, brighter so that your subject isn’t so dark and you can avoid the noise._
> 
> _Your dick pic gets a_ **_B._ ** _Thank you for submitting to dickpiccritic._

 

 

Steve wants the ground to open up and swallow him because holy shit. _Who dared him to do this?_ Obviously, it was a dare. Steve would never do something like this unless someone specifically told him that he can’t or wouldn’t or shouldn’t.

In a sudden rush of guilt, Steve goes back to the original email and types out a response.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: the best dick pic youve everrr seen
> 
> I’m so sorry for sending that picture, and for claiming it was the best dick pic you’ve ever seen. I know it’s not an excuse, but I was very drunk, and my friends dared me to do it. I don’t normally send dick pics to strangers on the internet.

 

 

Shaking his head at himself, Steve hits ‘send’, pockets his phone and starts making his way to the nearest subway station.

He gets a reply a couple of hours later.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: the best dick pic youve everrr seen
> 
> What??? You don’t need to apologise dude. It was a good pic and...that’s kind of what my whole blog is about.
> 
> Don’t sweat it :p
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: the best dick pic youve everrr seen
> 
> Okay, fair point. I just felt bad because I don’t send unsolicited dick pics. That was kind of the whole point of the dare, my friends taunted me about it.
> 
> And that, kids, is how I ended up sending a full frontal nude to a stranger on the internet. 
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: the best dick pic youve everrr seen
> 
> Hahahaha I understood that reference.
> 
> You sound like an anxious dude. Chill out a little :p
> 
> also...are you saying i took your dick pic virginity? im honoured
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>
> 
> To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: the best dick pic youve everrr seen
> 
> No you didn’t!! I’ve sent dick pics before but only when the person ASKS for them, I’m not a total douchebag nor a total virgin
> 
> I don’t need to chill out fyi I’m a very chill person. Don’t make assumptions about the strangers who send you their dick pics and claim that they’re the best ones you’ve seen. :p
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: the best dick pic youve everrr seen
> 
> Anxious but sexperienced, with a dash of self-righteousness and a hint of cockiness? You sound like my cup of tea.
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
>  From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: the best dick pic youve everrr seen
> 
> Wow...did you just flirt with me?
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: the best dick pic youve everrr seen
> 
> I was making a joke.
> 
> Why, do you _want_ me to flirt with you? :p
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: the best dick pic youve everrr seen
> 
> Don’t take this the wrong way but… I’m not sure I do.
> 
> I mean its nothing personal but I don’t know anything about you other than the fact that you run a blog in which you criticise people’s dicks.
> 
> And you have already seen my penis, which is reserved only for the eyes of my lovers
> 
> So you understand this is a tricky situation
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: the best dick pic youve everrr seen
> 
> That’s the most elaborate way someone’s asked me for a dick pic, I’ll give you that
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: the best dick pic youve everrr seen
> 
> THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT!!!!
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: the best dick pic youve everrr seen
> 
> DON’T SEND ME A DICK PIC

 

 

 

Steve puts his phone away and catches himself smiling because this stranger is actually kind of flirting with him and what’s even worse he’s actually enjoying it.

He’s spent the better part of the afternoon laid out on his couch, exchanging emails with this guy who calls himself James Dickpic - Steve knows better than to assume that’s his real first name - and he’s actually got _butterflies_ a couple of times.

What a better way to spend a Sunday.

He tosses his phone aside and decides to go take a shower because he’s starting to feel like a hangover, half-dead zombie-human hybrid.

The shower is a great idea. Standing under the steady stream of scorching hot water, Steve sighs as he feels his muscles relax. He’s half-assedly shampooing his head, struggling to find the energy to move around and seriously contemplating taking a bath instead if it wasn’t for the very real possibility that he could end up falling asleep in the bathtub.

And then his phone beeps, signaling the arrival of a new message and within milliseconds Steve has turned off the tap and is leaning over the counter to reach for his phone, balancing himself with one foot on the bathmat.

 

 

 

 

 

> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: the best dick pic youve everrr seen
> 
> HAHAHA I wasn’t going to! You should be so lucky ;)
> 
> Also, I have a correction to make. I criticise people’s dick PICS, not their DICKS. I’m actually a Photography major with a special interest in portraiture, fyi
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: the best dick pic youve everrr seen
> 
> I actually took a photography class in first year of college it was fun
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: the best dick pic youve everrr seen
> 
> Huh well maybe you can take a few more classes and eventually get an A in the most important photography test (aka my blog)
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: the best dick pic youve everrr seen
> 
> So youre saying im bad at taking dick pics?  
> 
> Okay
> 
> Challenge accepted
> 
>  
> 
> PS where do you study?
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: the best dick pic youve everrr seen
> 
> NO ONE FUCKING CHALLENGED YOU LMAO
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: the best dick pic youve everrr seen
> 
> That definitely sounded like a challenge to me
> 
> Just you wait until you see my next dick pic. Its gonna blow ur mind
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
> 
> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: the best dick pic youve everrr seen
> 
> Hahahaha pun intended?
> 
> can’t wait to see what you’ve got for me. Which I just realised makes me sound a bit like a creep…..oops?
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: the best dick pic youve everrr seen
> 
> Like i said, you’re running a dick pic blog, you’re already a creep
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: the best dick pic youve everrr seen
> 
> I’M A PHOTOGRAPHY MAJOR!
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: the best dick pic youve everrr seen
> 
> Whatever you say, creepo

 

 

Steve exits his email app and belatedly realises it’s gone past midnight, and he’s been talking to this guy for the majority of the day. He has an early morning lecture to get up for, and he’s accidentally got himself into a situation where he’s gonna need to submit another dick pic, to prove his limited photography skills.

Groaning, he shoves his phone under his pillow and pulls the covers over his shoulders, willing himself to fall asleep sooner than later.

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky’s on course to set a record - most yawns in the span of an hour. A pretty dumb record, but it’ll still look nice on his resume. That’s what employers look for, right? He’s on the verge of falling asleep during the entire bus ride into campus, and only starts waking up when he picks up his extra strong extra large extra hot coffee.

He’s early, so the lecture hall is mostly empty, aside from those eager overachievers and oh - that cute blonde who smiles at him sometimes, giving him butterflies. He is so _so_ cute - and kind and polite and tall and broad. Bucky is convinced he’s way out of his league.

Bucky makes his way over to his favourite seat, stealing glances at Steve, who sees him and smiles, raising a hand in a half-wave. Bucky’s stomach does that weird thing again. He ignores his favourite seat and instead smiles and raises his to-go cup in greeting, then plops down at a chair near him - one row down and three seats to the left. Close enough that they can maybe chat - but Bucky’s not nearly brave enough to strike up conversation. See, _this_ is the guy he should be trying to flirt with - not the weirdo who sent an apology email after submitting his dick pic. Except he’s a _funny_ weirdo and Bucky has a thing for guys who just that tiny bit of shy that it’s endearing. And really, the guy has _nothing_ to be shy about.

People start filtering in and the professor walks in and starts setting up to begin his presentation. Bucky is so not in the mood for this. He still has that paper to work on which is due at midnight tonight and he’s only halfway done with it.

His brain, which has a mind of its own, wanders off and starts thinking about his conversation with Cap’n Rogers and Bucky starts smiling to himself. For some reason, something about that guy draws him in, and Bucky is just thinking about how he’s gonna start up a conversation again. Which he knows he shouldn’t do, but he really wants to, dammit.

It’s not until late in the afternoon that his phone pings, notifying the arrival of a new email and Bucky scrambles to answer it. He may or may not have enabled notifications for when one of his contacts emails him...right after adding _Cap’n Rogers_ as his first and only contact.

The email subject reads ‘attempt 2.0’ and Bucky groans under his breath. He’s in a public place. He can’t possibly open that email.

Except he’s on the quiet floor of the library, and there’s not that many students around, so, technically, no one would notice if he sneaked a peek.

Who is he kidding. He’s going to look.

“Oh, _fuck._ ”

Bucky coughs to cover up his reaction to the picture Cap’n Rogers has sent him… which he is now blatantly staring at.

The man in the picture is lying in bed, partly covered, with his long, hard dick resting against his pelvis, peeking out from under the sheets. His torso is bare, exposed, but the picture cuts off just below his pecs. The caption reads, _‘I bought a selfie stick for this.’_

Bucky swallows hard. It’s so…soft and intimate. It’s beautiful. Belatedly, he realises he’s started to get aroused and that’s never happened before. He looks at the picture for a long time, thinking about how to reply. In the end, he types out _‘Much better’,_ hits send, and gathers his things, deciding to head home, maybe take a cold shower and then work on his paper some more.

He gets a reply moments later.

 

 

 

 

> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> Wait...that’s it?! Fuck you, man, that took me AN HOUR. Do you know how many versions of that I almost sent? Six.
> 
> I’m starting to think you’re nothing but an amateur, dickpiccritic

 

 

 

Bucky smiles when he reads the email, biting down on his lower lip. He’s so screwed.

 

  

 

 

> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> Technically, no one’s paying me for this, so I am indeed an amateur.
> 
> But you’re right. You deserve a proper critique.
> 
> I like the intimacy of this picture. Good job on improving the lightning - did you manage to snap this at the golden hour? It gives a certain softness to the picture but the subject is still clearly visible. I think the focus is a bit off - should be on the subject of the picture, so maybe extending your selfie stick just a little may have helped. Overall it’s a good attempt. It’s a nice picture.
> 
> For this picture you get an A-.
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> Well… thank you. I did my best.
> 
> Gonna keep trying. I’ll get that A+ some day.
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> Good luck with that, pal.

 

 

Bucky puts his phone away and groans out loud. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, but what’s worse is that _he wants to keep talking to this guy._

He pops a frozen pizza in the oven and flops down on his couch, going through his list on Netflix for something interesting to watch, puts _The Simpsons_ on and grabs his laptop, with every intention to work on his paper - but somehow ends up going through his emails again. The guy hasn’t responded yet, but Bucky has several submissions to go through and critique. The pictures are mediocre. He half-asses the critiques and feels vaguely bad about it, but his heart’s just not in it.

When his phone pings with a new email, Bucky’s whole face lights up again.

 

  

 

 

> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> Maybe i should take some more photography classes. Unfortunately my schedule is full this semester and i have decided on my classes for next semester
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> well you know, practice makes perfect...so keep taking those pics eventually you’ll get it right
> 
> I can recommend a book if you want? Its called ‘photography for dummies’ you can find it on Amazon
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> thats hilarious
> 
> hey, where’d you say you study?

 

 

Bucky chews on his lip for a whole minute while he reads the email. He’s made sure not to have anything on the blog that could identify him. He hasn’t even posted any pictures of himself on a slightly paranoid worry that an ex boyfriend might see his dick and recognise it. The profile picture is of a silhouette against a starry night, and the name underneath reads ‘James’. No one really knows him as James, so he’s safe. He doesn’t need future employees finding his guilty pleasure and refusing to hire him. Who’d hire a pervert to be their wedding photographer, or shoot adorable portraits of their babies dressed as vegetables?

 _Fuck it_ , he thinks, and types out the reply.

 

 

 

> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> Brooklyn College. And yourself?
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> Oh...I go to Brooklyn College too! That’s a weird coincidence.
> 
> Any chance I know you? :P
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> that’s for me to know and you to find out
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> Ooh, mysterious. Thats sexxy
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> Who’s flirting with whom now?
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> Sorry im drunk. my friend put me in an uber and sent me home :( 
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> aww
> 
> there there
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> You wanna see my newest dick pic? 
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>
> 
> To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> Only if i dont have to critique it. Ive clocked out for the night.
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
>   
> 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> A+
> 
> you did it pal
> 
> you got the A+ you wanted so much
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> Hahahahhah aha ha WOOHOO
> 
> I woulld like to thakn my parents who awlays believed in me….
> 
> does that mean i cant send u dick pics anymore :(
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> Hahaha congratulations
> 
> you can send me dick pics anytime. judging dick pics is my favourite hobby, remember? 
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> Can i sned you one but dont post it on the blog?
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> oh is it for my eyes only? 
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> yeah
> 
>  

> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> aha ok go for it

 

 

Bucky puts his phone face-down on his chest and sighs. It feels like he’s crossed a line. An imaginary line which he didn’t even realise existed because never before has he kept in touch with any of the people who have sent him submissions, but it kind of feels like this is a dumb idea.

Sure, he’s had internet friends who were as real as any one of his high school or college friends, and he’s done the swiping thing on dating apps and met up with strangers for hookups or even coffee dates but this is entirely uncharted territory.

He doesn’t even know this guy’s _name._

Bucky gets a sudden rush of nervous butterflies when the new email arrives. Hesitantly he opens it and waits for the picture to load.

It’s definitely the worst picture this guy has sent, if judging solely from a visual point of view. It looks like a slightly rushed picture, with a top-down view of himself as he’s laid on a bed, with the sheets bunched up at his feet. He appears completely naked in the picture, with his hand curled around his erect penis, and a hint of wetness at the head, which makes it entirely too sexual.

Bucky is hot all over a sudden. He swallows hard because he realises he’s maybe just a little aroused because this guy actually is ripped as fuck and is now sending him intimate pictures of himself jerking off and that’s _really not fair._

Before he gets a chance to reply, he receives a follow up email which says, _‘do you like it.’_

Does he like it.

Of course he fucking likes it. That’s the entire goddamn problem. 

 

 

 

> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> yeah it’s a good pic
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> :-)
> 
> you should send me one and ill judge u
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> haha yeah thats not gonna happen
> 
> sorry to disappoint ;)
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  To: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> ok sorry
> 
>  
> 
> * * *
> 
>  
> 
> From: James Dickpic <dickpiccritic@gmail.com>  
>  To: Cap’n Rogers <captaindeeznuts@gmail.com>  
>  Re: attempt 2.0
> 
> No worries pal

 

 

Bucky stares at the sent email for a long moment. It feels like he’s genuinely let this guy down. He groans out loud and puts his phone aside thinking, _‘Okay, no more internet for today’._ He’s going to read his book and he’s going to have a shower and go to bed.

And he’s not going to think about Cap’n Rogers.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Steve is definitely not glaring at a tray of muffins bites except he definitely is. At least the rest of the group is too hangover or possibly still drunk, to notice his moping.

“You’re all a bunch of lightweights,” Natasha says, sipping her mimosa.

Scott groans and asks her to ‘just shhhh’ and Clint complains about having had to wake up early for this stupid brunch. Sharon seems perfectly happy with her peach bellini. She didn’t sleep a wink last night, apparently, and is now continuing to drink.

Even Rhodey is looking miserable, especially when their perky server with the nametag ‘Peter’ appears at their table and asks if they’re ready to order their main course.

“Kid,” Clint says, sounding like a resigned, recently- divorced dad. “Listen to me. Don’t ever drink. Even if you think drinking is cool. It’s not cool. Are you drinking? How old are you?”

The poor guy blinks, looking slightly alarmed. “Uhh okay - I’m-”

“Please ignore our friend, he aged thirty years last night.” Steve tells their waiter, trying for a polite smile.

The poor guy can only nod. “So...are you ready to order?”

“We’re actually-”

“Hey yo!” Sam Wilson announces his presence like no other. “How’s everybody doing?”

Steve scooches to make some room for Sam, who grabs a chair and joins them at the table. The waiter stammers something under his breath and walks away, probably scarred for life.

“Happy birthday, Clint!” Sam cheers, obviously louder than he needs to be, just to mess with everyone at the table.

“Clint died last night,” says the birthday boy. “This is actually his ghost.”

“Man, I am so glad I didn’t come out with you last night.”

“Great to see you, Sam,” Steve shoots him a mock glare and hands him a menu, having decided on his order.

The group continues with their chit chat and Steve goes back to glaring at random items of food and regretting all of his decisions. Specifically, anything pertaining to his most recent email conversation with James. Why aren’t smartphones sentient enough to recognise you’re very drunk and should not be texting anyone, especially not the person you’re trying to impress for some reason?

Unfortunately, nothing gets past Sam Wilson.

“What’re you so grumpy about? You didn’t pass out in a dark alley, did you?”

“That was one time!” Clint exclaims, throwing his hands up, then frowns, realising he wasn't being addressed. “I mean, that has never happened.”

“How are you still alive?” Natasha asks, tilting her head to one side in wonderment.

“I got home fine, Nat put me in an uber.” Steve says in response to Sam’s earlier question. “And I wasn’t even that drunk.”

“You were one pornstar martini away from dancing on the table.” Natasha protests, and Sam bursts out laughing.

“Oh man, I woulda loved to see that.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Anyway, that was a mistake, because if you hadn’t sent me home I wouldn’t have been drunk texting!”

“Ooh, who were you drunk texting?”

Everyone at the table turn their gazes at Steve, waiting for the answer. He sighs. “No one. Just this guy I’ve been talking to. Sort of.”

“So you’d rather be dancing on a table than drunk texting him? What could you have possibly said to this guy?” Sam’s grin is full of mischief.

“Hey, I’ve done worst things while drunk!” Steve says, in hopes of turning the conversation away from his lovelife - or lack thereof.

“That’s because people tell you ‘Steve, don’t do the thing’ and you’re like, “No I’m gonna do the thing’, it’s just harder to stop you when _you’re_ drunk and _we’re_ all drunk.”

Clint laughs and reaches across the table to high-five Natasha, who smiles in a self-satisfied kind of way. Steve glares at her.

“You’re constantly daring me to do things!”

“No one dared you to jump on the roof of the next building over!”

“I’m sorry, what?” Sam leans forward in his seat, slightly alarmed. “You jumped from one roof to another?!”

“Scott said he didn’t think I could make it.” Steve shrugs. “And I was pretty drunk.”

Then of course everyone remembers a dumb thing Steve has done when drunk, and that becomes the next topic of conversation for the next hour.

“Oh oh! One time he sent a dick pic to a blog.”

“Okay, that one was an _actual literal dare_.” Steve points an accusatory finger at Clint. “You’re the one who dared me to do it!”

“YOU INSULTED MY MOTHER.”

“Whoaaa,” Sam looks at Steve, slightly concerned. “You did?”

“No, I’m joking,” Clint clarifies. “But he really did send the pic!”

“Sent it to who?”

Steve sighs. “It’s this blog that critiques dick pics.” he says, fully aware that a pink blush has started creeping its way up his neck, reddenning his ears. “It was a stupid dare.”

Sam blinks at him. “Wait. Seriously? Is it _dickpiccritic_?”

“You know it?”

“Sam! Did you send your pic too?” Clint exclaims, now excited. “There was one last week - I knew I recognised it!”

“Uh, no,” Sam raises an eyebrow at Clint. “I know we’re bird pals and all, but why did you think - you know what, nevermind. I don’t want to know. No, I know who runs that blog.”

Steve’s eyes grow wide. “You do?”

“Yeah. He’s a friend of mine.” Sam shakes his head, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “I always wanted to have a semi-famous celebrity as a friend, but I didn’t think it would be Bucky. Damn.”

“Who’s Bucky?”

Steve only barely hears the question, because he _knows_ Bucky. Or at least, he knows _a_ Bucky who goes to the same college as him… but it’s not exactly a popular name.

“ _That’s_ who I’ve been talking to for a month?” Steve mumbles under his breath.

“What do you mean you’ve been _talking_ to him?”

Steve blinks and snaps out of his trance to see Clint staring at him, looking rather weirded out, and so is the rest of the group.

“Um,” he stammers, unsure of what to say.

“Oh shit,” Sam says, belatedly realising he’s let on his friend’s secret identity. “I shouldn’t have said that. Do you _know_ him?”

Steve nods. “I think… he’s in my Sociology class.”

And maybe he’s kind of admired the guy from a distance and sometimes talked to and possibly flirted with on a few occasions, but Steve chooses to keep that part to himself. That’s just gonna make things more awkward, because it means he’s actually flirted with the same person - in person and online - while thinking they were different people: Bucky, his classmate, and James, internet stranger.

“Oh man, I messed up.” Sam drops his head in his hands, regretting everything.

Natasha pipes up then, asking, “Can we go back to the whole, ‘you’ve been talking to him’ part?”

Steve shrugs. “We started talking.”

“And?”

“And nothing.”

Nat squints her eyes at him and Steve puts his best innocent face on. It almost works until Sharon gasps and says, “Oh my God, did you sleep with him?”

“What?! No!”

“This is giving me a headache. I need a nap.” Scott says then, and gets to his feet. Clint decides to join him, and slaps Steve on the back on their way out and wishes him good luck.

“A nap sounds good.” Sharon says, sounding a lot more tired than she looks. “I’m sleepy. Can we pay and go?”

“But I’m not done making fun of Steve yet.” Natasha pouts at her, but Sharon rolls her eyes and promises they can make fun of Steve later together.

Sam shakes his head. “Man, you need better friends.”

Steve laughs softly, looking for a waiter to ask for the bill. He’s ready for a post-brunch nap himself.

“Hey, I can introduce you to my friends.” Sam says, a cheeky smile on his face. “Specifically, my roommate Bucky?”

“You know what, Sam, I like you, I really do.” Steve smiles at him. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

Sam laughs. “You’re kinda bitchy sometimes, you know that?”

“I know.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky hasn’t received an email from Cap’n Rogers in three days.

Not that he’s counting. (He is.)

He’s at the coffee shop on his campus, trying to kill time between lectures. Thursdays are truly the worst days for his schedule. He has an hour and half gap between his morning and afternoon classes, where making the trip home seems like a hassle since he’ll only have about half an hour before he has to leave the house again. So he’s submitted a paper online, taken about eight Buzzfeed quizzes, scrolled the entirety of his Twitter feed, and checked the _dickpiccritic_ email half a dozen times.

He’s almost tempted to send an email saying he’s changed his mind...because maybe he has? Maybe he actually wants to find out Cap’n Rogers’ real name, and reveal his own, and get to know him. There’s worse ways to meet people, right?

Sure he knows next to nothing about him, but the guy is funny, and has the body of a Greek God, and at least if the date is a success and they actually hook up, there won’t be any surprises there.

Bucky covers his face with his palm. He did _not_ just seriously think that.

Maybe he needs more coffee. That’ll help. He gets to his feet and is surprised to see the cute blonde called Steve from his Sociology class standing only a foot away from his table. He’s holding a notepad in one hand and holding on to the strap of his backpack slung on one shoulder with the other and looking a bit flushed.

“Oh, hey,” Bucky says. “How’s it going?”

“Uh, pretty good. Mind if I join?” Steve asks, gesturing the empty chair at Bucky’s table.

“Oh sure!” Bucky clears his throat, telling himself to bring it down a notch. “I was just gonna get a refill, you want anything?”

“Uh, I’m good, thanks.”

Bucky nods. “Okay then, be right back!”

He grabs his mug and joins the queue, glancing back at his table a couple of times to see Steve has opened his notepad and appears to be sketching. Bucky rolls on his heels, slightly nervous. He’s never really talked to Steve for more than about four sentences, and that’s been about homework, really. Maybe he should have talked to him and asked him out. What’s the harm, really? Worst case scenario, he’s asked out a straight guy. It’s happened before. Except he doesn’t think Steve is straight, but that might be his please-be-gay-dar speaking.

Bucky’s so distracted with his thoughts that he forgets to ask for whipped cream on his caramel latte. He’s pouting about it when he gets to his table, but then Steve looks up and asks if he’s okay and probably for the first time Bucky notices how blue his eyes are.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Forgot to ask for whipped cream.”

“Oh,” Steve says, and the blush starts returning.

Bucky has never seen him seen flustered. Steve is that guy who told off their professor for the historical inaccuracy of his lecture about first-wave feminism, by going on a rant that completely shut down any attempt the professor could make at holding his original position. That was a truly epic moment.

“So, um,” Steve starts to say, fiddling with his pencil. “I think...I have to come clean about something.”

“Oh?” Bucky is intrigued and still somewhat nervous.

A distant, hopeful part of his brain, wonders if Steve is about to confess that he’s had a crush on Bucky, and then Bucky can tell him about his crush and maybe they can go on a date. It’s a bit too happy-fairytale-ending, in all honesty, but a guy can dream, right?

Bucky is in no way prepared for what he’s about to hear.

“Okay, um,” Steve stumbles over his words, not quite meeting him in the eye. “I know - well, I found out about the...blog you have?” he leans closer and lowers his voice. “Dickpiccritic?”

Bucky’s heart starts racing in his chest. _Okay. Play it cool, pretend you don’t-_

“Sam Wilson - your roommate - he accidentally told me. But uh, it’s because-” Steve sighs and pauses for a moment, his eyebrows knitting together. “Well, I...sent you an email.”

“Oh,” Bucky’s eyes widen slightly. “Are you worried - I wouldn’t have known which one was-”

“No, uh,” Steve looks like he might just combust at any given moment. He still can’t quite meet Bucky in the eye and is now rubbing his neck awkwardly. Bucky feels sorry for him.

But then Steve looks at him and says, “I mean I’ve sent you multiple emails, but they were from, um, _Cap’n Rogers_.”

“What.”

“Didn’t want to use my real name the first time. It was actually a dare - well, you know that,” Steve shifts in his seat and looks down at his notepad where he’s been sketching random patterns to occupy his mind.

Bucky is pretty sure he’s dreaming, but it feels more like a nightmare. He’s frozen in his spot while his brain tries to process the information.

“I’m sorry, this is awkward,” Steve runs a hand over his face.

“I…” Bucky’s brain jumpstarts and he gets to his feet. “I have to go.”

And he takes off, navigating through the mass of students filtering in for their afternoon java to make a hasty exit, not even bothering to take his backpack or books with him. He’s walking as fast as he can trying to get out as soon as possible. He’s a foot away from the big glass doors of the building when someone grabs his arm and tugs, saying, “Wait, wait, wait!”

Bucky spins around and there’s Steve, struggling to hold on to his backpack as well as Bucky’s, and all their textbooks and notepads, while he’s still holding onto Bucky’s elbow with is free hand.

“You left...all your things.” Steve’s looking at him with his big blue eyes, and he still hasn’t let go of him.

Bucky nods and mumbles a _‘thanks’_ as he takes his belongings off Steve’s hands and then they’re standing there awkwardly as the silence stretches on and becomes uncomfortable.

“How long have you known?” Bucky asks eventually.

“Two days?” Steve says, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “I only found out on Sunday, I swear.”

Bucky nods again. He’s not sure what else to say. He kind of wants to scream, or jump off a very tall building - for the adrenaline rush, not because he has a death wish.

“I...have to go.” he says for the second time that day, and before Steve has a chance to reply, Bucky’s already turned around and is heading out the door.

He completely forgets about the lecture he was meant to attend, instead gets on the bus and heads home.

 

* * *

 

 

 

_“are you moping?”_

_“I am definitely not moping. just dont feel like another rager. 9am lecture tomorrow.”_

_“monopoly with clint and scott is hardly a rager… come on it’ll be fun. we can play for cash :-)”_

Steve sighs, staring at his phone. He really does not want to leave the house today - and maybe he’s moping a little but whatever. Bucky was cute and charming and witty and gave him butterflies and now that’s never gonna happen, so yeah, okay, he can mope for a day.

His phone vibrates again and a new text shows up from Natasha. _“if u dont come to mine we’re coming to urs.”_

Resigned, he texts back _, “great, come collect the rest of your rum from last time you invited urself over.”_

Eventually he gets to his feet and heads for a shower because if he’s having people over the least he can do is look presentable (and not smell like sweat and Cheetos). He even makes a trip to the shop nearby to stock up on snacks and tidies up the living room/kitchen area. By nine o’clock, there’s more people in his tiny apartment than can comfortably fit in the space - that is to say, Natasha and Sharon, Scott and Clint.

While they’re setting up the game, Natasha, ever-so-casually says, “Oh, I invited Sam over as well, so he might show up at some point.”

Steve is almost sure she’s up to something. At this point, he knows better. “Thanks for the heads up,” he says, only a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but the redhead gives him A Look.

“You need new friends. We’re getting pretty tired of putting up with your dramatic ass.”

Steve rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything. They start playing the game and he tries to ignore the unease in his stomach - it feels like he’s being totally paranoid, but Sam knows _Bucky_ , and what if Bucky shows up too?

Turns out he’s not being _totally_ paranoid, because that’s exactly what happens.

Sam brings Bucky and Maria and Pepper, too. There’s clearly not enough space in the apartment, but oh-so-thankfully, “This building has a great rooftop!” and that’s how Steve finds himself stood at the very edge of his rooftop, hands in his pockets as he looks out to the city stretched ahead of him. Yes, he’s avoiding certain people, and he’s doing a damn good job at it, too, until certain people show up next to him.

“Hey,” says Bucky, trying for a smile, though it’s strained.

Steve glances his way very briefly. “Having fun?”

“Sorta. I hate playing monopoly, but Clint and Sam are _at war_ , so that’s pretty entertaining.” Bucky rolls on his heels, glancing at him a couple of times. He’s radiating this nervous energy that’s sort of contagious - Steve’s stomach is tied up in knots.

“You think they’d notice if we slipped away for a few minutes?”

Steve looks at Bucky, surprised by the question. “Why?”

Bucky shrugs. He takes a deep breath and exhales. “I feel kinda… exposed. I mean, like everyone here _knows_. Don’t like that.”

“Yeah. I’m 100% sure this whole thing was fucking staged so…” Steve turns on his heel and heads towards the door, nodding for Bucky to follow him.

Back in his apartment, he offers Bucky a drink, and then busies himself throwing away empty bottles and putting away packets of half-eaten chips and popcorn. Bucky walks around the small room, looking at Steve’s paintings on the walls and the books on his shelves. It only makes Steve self-conscious, like he’s being judged. By someone who has seen his privates in very detailed pictures. The memory makes him stop in his tracks and drop his head in his hands, covering his entire face with his palms.

“Hey...you ok?” Bucky asks, concern evident in his voice.

Steve sighs and lets his arms drop to his sides. He shrugs. “I’m embarrassed.”

Bucky nods. “Um, yeah. Same here,” he chuckles but it’s a self-deprecating laugh. “Listen, I’m sorry. About storming out like that… I just…” he makes a vague sweeping gesture with his arm, beer still in his hand. “I think I kind of panicked. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Steve shrugs and grabs a towel just to have something to fiddle with. “I shouldn’t have said anything - or at least, I don’t know - I could have put it in an email.”

Bucky laughs again. “Yeah, maybe. I mean, I’d still freak out but it’s less embarrassing when it’s not happening right in front of the guy you like, you know.”

“You… what?”

Bucky cocks his head to one side, a smirk curving his mouth. “Don’t give me that innocent look,” he says, playfully berating him. “I know you know what you’ve shown me,” he gestures towards Steve, moving his hand up and down. “C’mon, Steve. C’mon.”

To his surprise, it makes Steve laugh, but he still flushes, cheeks turning pink. “Okay, yeah, that’s...um, fair enough.”

“You were flirting with me, too.”

Steve bites on his lower lip and turns away, looking around his tiny kitchen for more stuff to put away, even though it’s starting to look spotless at this point. “Yeah, well.”

He’s all too aware of Bucky’s sudden presence in the kitchen; he hears the thud of an empty bottle on the counter and out of the corner of his eye sees Bucky leaning against it.

“Tell you what, let’s make it even.”

“What’s that now?” Steve turns to face him, eyes wide.

Bucky shrugs and folds his arms across his chest. “Tit for that,” he says, tilting his head side to side.

“Uhh, that’s - there’s no need. It’s OK.”

“Huh,” Bucky digs his phone out of the pocket of his very form-fitting black denims and taps on the screen and moments later, reads out loud, “From Cap’n Rogers: you should send me one and I’ll judge you,” he says, and flips the phone around, basically shoving the screen in Steve’s face with a cocked eyebrow.

Steve has to look away, blushing even harder. He’s basically moments away from combusting. He wishes he was drunker, so he opens the fridge and grabs another beer. It won’t make him drunk but it’s cool and refreshing so it still helps.

“In my defence, I was drunk.”

Bucky laughs, and this time it sounds genuine, and Steve feels butterflies in his stomach. _Butterflies._

“Okay, let’s put it this way,” says Steve, while heading to the sofa to put some space between himself and Bucky. “You don’t have to, um, make it even - as you said - but I suppose it’s only fair that you’re allowed to...to…”

“Send you a dick pic whenever I want?”

“Yes, you have my permission. If you want to. But you don’t have to.”

“Okay, that’s fair.” Bucky sits on the floor with his legs crossed. He pretends to think, drumming his fingers against his knee. “Maybe I’ll surprise you.” he says with a slight smirk.

“Just… not when I’m in class, please.”

“Of course. Wouldn’t want to distract you with my-”

“Please don’t finish that sentence.”

Bucky bursts out laughing and a moment of silence stretches on before he looks at Steve and smiles and says, “So we’re cool? We can be friends?”

Steve smiles back and hates himself for saying, “Yeah, we can be friends.”

Bucky nods slowly. “Can I use your bathroom?”

Steve gets to his feet and shows him the way - down the hallway, door to the right - and flops back on the sofa with a sigh of defeat, the last glimmer of hope of maybe one day going out with Bucky dying with the agreement to be friends. His phone pings with the arrival of a new email to his _captaindeeznuts_ account and Steve freezes in his spot when he sees the unread email (no subject). He knows who it’s from and he knows what it is and he can’t bring himself to open it right away.

First, he needs to be somewhere where his friends won’t come barging in at any given moment. He gets up and heads to his bedroom but doesn’t quite make it there because Bucky is standing there, in his narrow hallway, blocking his path.

“Now we’re even.” he grins at Steve.

Steve looks down at the unread email and then at Bucky and says in the quietest voice, “I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Why not? Come on, do it,” Bucky leans over to look at the phone screen and taps on the unread email, “There you go.”

Steve is kind of speechless looking at the picture. It’s really just a mirror selfie of Bucky with his belt unbuckled, jeans tugged down just enough to show part of his dick. He can’t help but sneak a look just to check if Bucky is still hard and… yeah, definitely. There’s no way to conceal his erection even if he wanted to, not in jeans that tight, but Steve looks up and meets him in the eye and all but drops his phone because all he wants to do in that moment is grab Bucky and kiss him, get him out of his clothes and get his mouth on him.

Bucky licks his lips and asks, “You okay there, Steve?”

“You know exactly what you’re doing, right?” Steve asks, voice all deep and raspy.

“What? I was just getting even.”

Steve puts his phone in his back pocket, no longer interested in the contents of Bucky’s email, not when he has the real thing right in front of him, looking at him with that pouty, pink mouth - absolutely fucking sinful.

Steve takes a step forward, but doesn’t dare make a move to touch Bucky - not yet. “I really - I want to kiss you. Please say you’re not just teasing me?”

Bucky shakes his head. “If you don’t make a move right now, I will.”

Yeah, okay, that’s all Steve needs to hear before he’s pinned Bucky to the wall, with his hands gripping Bucky by the hips and pulling him towards himself, desperate to press their bodies together, kissing him with all he’s got.

It’s two hours and three rounds later when they hear their friends climbing back into Steve’s apartment through the fire escape, complaining about being left outside. Someone asks, “Are they fucking?” and another person replies, “Of course they’re fucking!” and Bucky giggles and turns to look at Steve and tucks himself closer to him.

“Hey, Steve?” he asks, whispering in case anyone’s pressed their ear against the bedroom door.

“Yeah?”

“Not to be too clingy but… do you want to date me?”

Steve grins, his eyes lighting up. “I really do.”

Bucky nods. “Okay. I want to date you, too. But on one condition.”

Steve feels like he’s soaring. Maybe it’s the multiple orgasms, but he feels really fucking happy.

“Anything.”

“If people ask… can we lie about how we met?

 

 


End file.
